Dumping
by HearMeCalling
Summary: The full title: Dumping: The Act of Breaking Up or Being Thrown Into Dumpsters Kurt one-shot. A little character study.


**A/N: **None of you have any idea how much this character means to me. He's just amazing in every single way and I have this Mercedes crush on him! I admire him. I love getting into this boy's head. Enjoy.

Deets:

1) Kurt POV

2) One Shot

3) Vaguely Stream-of-Consciousness.

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Slushies and dumpsters are my two most hated things on this planet. Sure slushies are delicious icey treats that taste like heaven when you go on a strict diet for several months however, they are demons to get out of hair and out of clothes especially if you don't have a mother to do laundry when your father clearly doesn't know that Prada waist coats are supposed to be _drycleaned_. I've learned my lesson (well, lesson_s_). 1) Never wear something dry-clean only to school and 2) you must do everything yourself. Dishes, laundry, ironing, all of it. My father doesn't know how to cook and clean. I suppose I truly do take after my mother. My dad probably would be living off Hungry Man TV-dinners and putting that _one red sock _into the whites causing a mass of pink underwear. (Not that I care. I happen to enjoy pink)

Dumpsters are just about as bad as slushies. They stink like prison food gone bad. Probably because that is what is contained in the dumpster, wrapped in thin plastic bags that could break open anytime I'm in that filthy thing. Plus, the physically pain I receive about tops it off. Sure it's a definate blow to my carefully built-up dignitiy and my fragile, but well-announced sense of pride I have for myself. I don't care what people think, really, I just wish that they wouldn't be so closed-off to the idea that perhaps there is someone in this world that is different than theirselves. However, you can't change people.

Mercedes has had her fair share of slushies-to-the-face, but she has never been picked up and thrown into the dumpster by brute football players who use steroids and probably have tiny penises. She doesn't have to skip a half of first period to change and often shampoo her hair once more (_even though she did it last night and it might dry her hair out more_....!). Of course the Armani Code I spritz on helps a lot. It keeps me from having to smell that wretched stench of tuna suprise.

This is why I _never_ eat that stuff.

"Kurt, stand up to them," said Finn when I was at his locker, telling him about my dumpster troubles. Oh how cute, I thought. He was trying to give me advice when I'm about 140 pounds (5 feet 7 inches or so) and he is a 200-some 6-foot tall brute quarterback who can probably beat them up pretty well. As if I could do that.

"Heh! It's like that was supposed to help. Thanks, Finn, but I doubt that I could even sit down to them, much less _stand up _to them." I laughed at my rather corny play-on-words. Finn looked a little lost, but he went with it. I keep having this thought about why I think he's so adorable when he's a total space-case. Not all present in the head. "I would probably die at their hands if they ever wanted to kill me. One punch, out like a light. Two punches, dead as a doornail." I sighed. The bell rang and the kids in the hallway dispersed. I walked to my next class. When I got there I began doodling something that really wasn't relevant to anything. I just had to get all bad emotions out on paper somehow. I'm an okay drawer (no DaVinci or anything, obviously) so I doodle from time to time. Sometimes hearts and silly girly things that I really secretely love to draw. I admit I'm quite the female when it comes to a few things, but I'm actually not all that feminine. I can be manly.....kinda. Aside from the voice and the small stature, I can fix some cars and I've fished before. Never liked camping, however, a little too down-n'-dirty for me. (Dad took me once. Bad memories I don't want to revist). You just have to overlook the fact that I dress for sucess and I do love Broadway. It's really hard to overlook, but I really do have a manly side.

It's just not that prominent.

Dad would probably like it more if it was, however.

"Kurt, you can be thrown into the dumpster 100 times and still smell amazing. How do you do it?" said Mercedes at lunch time. She placed her head in her palm looking genuienly interested in how I groomed. Okay, I thought. She should know, but I'll tell her anyways.

"Well, my dear, you see, it's all in the art of washing one self and bringing an extra set of clothes. Oh, and a little cologne. But, shh. It's a secret." I put my finger to my mouth and waggled my eyebrows a little. She laughed.

"Talented in singing and in primping."

"You know it. Oh! I was reading Vogue the other day and I found this article about makeup that you have to read. Come over this weekend and we'll go shopping or something. Dad would probably let you stay over."

She nodded excitedly.

We returned to picking at our disgusting food in front of us. I always thought this food--no matter what they titled it--tasted like throw-up. Someone had definately chewed up this food and puked it up. These are the type of things that I think of that make me lose my appetite. The thought happened to wedge its way into my train of thought and I dropped my fork onto my tray and pushed the plate away from my face. No lunch today. Didn't matter anyways. This meant I could potentially eat some ice cream when Tina, Mercedes, Artie and myself decided to go to the ice cream shop later. It was a Monday tradition. It took our minds off the preceding day, which since it was Monday, was terrible.

Glee couldn't come fast enough. The group I usually hung with were all there at the same time. Soon afterwards Rachel, Finn, Puck, and Quinn came into the room. They all seemed pretty much aloof. Rachel was just always pissed off anymore, ever since that Jesse St. James guy almost ruined the team dynamic that we really didn't have anyways. At least Rachel was still in Glee club. She could decide to turn around and go to Carmel where she would probably be more appreciated. Everyone there who was in Vocal Adrenaline anyways had the same God-awful personality as her. She would fit in well.

I hate to admit it, but we really do need her. Mercedes can belt it on the fly most of the time, but she has a very soulful-bluesy quality. We'd have to arrange songs around her voice, in turn changing the songs too much to actually be performed and called said songs. You couldn't sing Don't Stop Believing as a blues song. You could, I suppose, but it wouldn't sound like Don't Stop Believing. I could take over the female leads, but that would potentially cause more problems than needed. Besides, we were all under tons of stress with regionals coming up and such. We had a "Hello" song. Now we just needed other great group songs.

After Glee ended, it was about 4. We worked on a few things, but not enough to really be called a full practice. Before Sectionals, we stayed there until at least 6 or so. That was three hours after school was over. I walked to my Navigator alone, waving bye to Mercedes. She left in her own car.

"Hey, Hummel!" said a football player walking towards me. "Got something to tell you?"

I sighed. I had to go along with it, or I would wind up with a black eye. I hated those things.

"Yes?"

"Get his legs." The football player and his friend (his last name was Millins which I heard Coach Tanaka yelling one day) grabbed my legs and underneath my arms and dumped me into the dumpster. Yes, this made it twice today. They shut the lid and I sighed in the dark, stink trash container waiting until their laughter died away and I was safe to leave. It didn't really hurt that time since I landed on a few trash bags that seemed to contain food instead of pointy metal shards. I leaned out the dumpster, looking down at the ground knowing I had to get out somehow. Too bad I wasn't tall enough or strong enough to really pull myself from the thing.

So there I sat for awhile, face resting on my fist waiting for Mr. Schue or _someone _to come from the school.

Did I mention I really hate mondays?

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A/N: I'm thinking about basing a chapter story off this one.

I really love the new character, Jesse St. James.

OHEMGEE isn't he dreamy? Well, he's a good match for Kurt. : P


End file.
